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The Fuel

Star Angel and Mercy's Pen

If I was a divine celestial angel, would I have met my true companion? It was told that angels were neither capable to marry nor given in marriage by God, but what was to be of me? Was I an angel or was I born human? My heart told of how mercy wanted me to work for him, with a pen, writing life of unfinished and unrequited love, but what was to be of me, the writer with such a predicament? Was I mercy's story or the author? Should I write stories of star-crossed lovers or was I one myself? Should I write what I knew?


But what was to be of him? He was not star crossed, he found his true love and won't be another. He was and always will be with her, and won't ever value me. I knew I was nowhere to be in this destiny with a companion. I won't give up on my own life, there might be one for me, another soul whose wings were bent hell on loving, but broken from heart wrenching life. I wish I was not damaged from the struggles in life as an angel in disguise, but I was and the process of which I wanted to savor with the man I wanted to marry became destroyed and damaged, just like my soul was. 


I promised myself that I won't die and won't live to die for another woman who hurt me, but there were trying times and I wished I was not too weakened by trauma. I wished my mind was a black stallion pacing with me in steady state and running and working and writing, but I found myself instead, ruminating. I often ruminate, dissecting, analyzing, and wishing, while he was living and his life was the epitome of happy. I was not his dream, and until I meet another of my heart's dream, should I waste my life on these ruminations? Should I give up on marriage? Should I give up on love? I hope and pray for myself to live another day.


No! I shall keep on going, and keep on with my mercy's pen upon forgiving myself and my undoing and doing, and my post-traumatic-mistakes. I wished I was not, but I was and will be, a woman who has to live with these conditions, but was it my fault that demons pursued my life, the angel with broken wings? This was why I made myself a writer, to propose to the world, to have me, and to love me, and to hell with the rest.


I pray, as I write with Mercy's pen, that God will write with divination, hope, faith and unconditional love, as was in Psalms 139, and won't give up on me. That God, himself, will finish my story with truth and such a brilliant love that no one will compare, not even my own thoughts could imagine. That I will be...His Mercy Testimony.



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